


That's How I Wanna Go

by Waynesgrayson



Category: The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Face Has a Knife Kink, M/M, Marking, Sexual Content, Torture, mentions of past rape/non-con, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waynesgrayson/pseuds/Waynesgrayson
Summary: The one where The A-Team is actually an avenging serial killer team who hunts down the scum of the earth.--Based off this:x#Face is a con man who catches and kills only the most beautiful specimens he can find#selling the imperfect pieces on the black market and making enough to keep up appearances#Hannibal isn’t a cannibal because that would be silly#though he did make someone eat their own middle finger once because ‘that was just rude’#Murdock would basically be Murdock only like with 300% more homicidal tendencies#any random passers-by or seedy bar patrons are subject to his whims and if he doesn’t like their particular character#or if they can’t answer his riddles he guts them with a screwdriver or force-feeds them bananas#I see B.A. as either like an arsonist or one of those avenger killers#attacking hit-and-run drivers or gang members or child molesters#idk#feel free to say no#I just love twisting everything into serial killer aus.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched this show in years (so forgive me), but when I read that AU idea I couldn't resist! 
> 
> Title take from: Collar Full by Panic! At the Disco

:i:

They go after a guy on B.A's list. Some rich, flashy television producer whose smile could rival Face's own.

It's rare, going after someone so high-profile. It's more high-risk and much trickier than taking out a local gang that sells drugs to kids, or gutting some low-life high school teacher whose idea of extra credit work involves taping minors and putting them on the dark web.

But it does happen, and this was some guy B.A has been after for a long time. Before the team even got together.

Hannibal hadn't asked many questions when B.A threw a stack of folders on the table they were all standing around. Not that any questions were needed. Not after reading up on the guy and hearing the tale of a girl who lived in the same neighbourhood as B.A, raped and humiliated by a man promising her a shot at stardom.

How she confided in B.A, and how ever since then he's been trying to take her rapist down.

Hannibal had simply nodded, and it was decided.

Not that Face could complain. The only reason this guy's a high-risk case is because a lot of people would notice he's missing rather quickly. Face had no doubt that by the end of the night this man would be no more, and B.A can finally give the girl whatever peace the news of this mans death will bring.

Getting into this party wasn't difficult. It was elite and sophisticated, but for a group of killers, they polished up rather nicely. A smile here and a slip of cash there had all four of them in the door and blending in with the crowd like they belonged.

The fact that B.A had dismantled the security systems before entry also did wonders for the worry. Not that Face had any.

There's a reason they're the best. And the most wanted.

But despite the reason for them being here, Face enjoyed himself.

He enjoyed the lavish, elite life. Enjoyed the fine champagne and the glittery rooms that smelled of old antiques and expensive perfume. It's a life that still made his heart ache with 'what ifs', but didn't burn anymore. Not when he finally has a place, a family. No matter how twisted it may seem to others if they knew.

And he really enjoyed this game when he knew what the outcome of the night would be. While he himself enjoyed rolling up his sleeves and getting up close and personal with a person's insides, he had to admire Bosco's silent and slow ways. It was something special to watch. It was like going to church and begging a priest for forgiveness and thinking you've got it, only for a cross to be shoved through your brain.

But he especially enjoyed the night, because he had Murdock on his arm.

The man had fidgeted and blanched at almost everything, but after years of it, Face didn't mind. Besides, he could only thank whatever was out there that he got to see Murdock in a fitted suit with his hair combed back, looking sleek and polished.

It didn't happen often. Not as often as Face would like, anyway. So he knows it's something to enjoy as much as he can, while he can.

But all good things must come to an end.

One moment Face is laughing with a group of gold-wrist aristocrats, a champagne flute in one hand while the other holds tight to Murdock's waist. And the next it's just the five of them, the door closing on this rapists end.

Now Face is lounging back in a chaise, glass of whisky in one hand while the other plays with the decorative tassels on the chair. He watches as B.A talks to the man tied to a kitchen chair in the middle of the room.

He thinks about how those people looked at him during the party. Looked at Murdock. He thinks about all the things he could do to the man who ignored Murdock, not even sparing him a look as he made conversation with Face. Or the woman whose smile faltered upon introductions when she looked at him. Or the way old, jealous eyes snapped to and mouths whispered about the hand Face kept on Murdock the entire evening; possessive and unmistakable in meaning.

But he supposes none of that matters now. They have who they came for.

He files those name for later, however. He's positive Hannibal will allow him a little reckless play-time later, knowing the man saw what he did.

B.A's voice is low and warm. It's how he sometimes talks with Murdock when they're not trying to get a rise out of each other. It's a voice that gets the the very core of a human being. Cracks them open and exposes them in a way that's scary but freeing. It sounds like forgiveness.

Forget the priest. If Face believed in such things, he'd wager Jesus Christ himself was sitting in this room with them.

The rapist looks like he's spent the last hour or so being roughed up by both B.A and Hannibal. Which he has. The moment the door closed, on what the man assumed was his last guest, they struck. It wasn't hard at all to over take the man. Their number was enough to make the man pause, if not, his confusion at them still being there gave them enough time.

After that, however, Face let B.A have this one and crashed onto the chaise.

Hannibal is currently standing in the kitchen doorway, his unlit cigar between his fingers, silently watching the scene in front of them with that quiet, calculated look in his eyes.

Sometimes Face thinks if he didn't know the man like he did, it's be too easy to believe that the Boss didn't enjoy what they did.

It's easy to see the tight lips and the haunted eyes and think that maybe, just maybe, Hannibal did this because this was what he was good at and nothing more. He never cheers the way Murdock does. Nor does he seem to feel that satisfaction that makes BA puff his chest out when justice is served.

But there is no mistaking that gleam in his eyes. That unmistakable spark that fuels the rest of the group when they see it.

Face rolls his head back and looks at Murdock. The man is muttering to himself, less interested in what B.A was doing than an hour ago. Once B.A did the honours of castrating the rapist, Murdock moved into the corner of the room. Thankfully, he didn't ask if he could keep the removed penis, though Face has a feeling that's all in good time.

Every now and then Murdock will say something to the room at large, but nothing that really pertains the main activity. It does, however, make the man in the chair jump, clearly not over how Murdock was earlier. All taunts and Cheshire smiles and wide eyes. The rusty screwdriver didn't help things either, not when Murdock told him in painfully beautiful detail what it's like impaling someones gut with it or jamming it in their eye socket.

He's still in the suit, but the bow-tie now sits in Face's pocket. His dress shirt is open and Face simply stares.

Eventually, when he shakes himself out of his trance, Face rolls out of the chaise and into his feet. He places the glass down on the table beside it and adjusts his jacket. He strolls over to Murdock who glances up at him once, before looking back at the thing in his hands.

“What do you got there, gorgeous?”

Murdock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look up.

“Found this in the parking lot of that Seven-Eleven a couple blocks over. Looks like a coin of some kind.”

He holds it out in front of him, the dull and dirty coin pinched between two fingers. Face has no desire to touch the coin. However, offer of Murdock's hand is tempting. He reaches out and covers Murdock's hand with his own. The action causes Murdock's eyelashes to flutter and his eyes meet Face's own.

“Pretty,” Face says.

He leans over Murdock, his free hand gripping the arm of the chair. He leans in until their foreheads touch, eyes slipping closed as their noses brush.

“Very nice.” He places a long kiss on Murdock's forehead.

“Are you two done? Can I please continue?” B.A scolds from his crouched position. Face turns away from Murdock, but doesn't release his hand, his thumb dragging over the back of Murdock's hand.

“Come on, baby,” Murdock drawls with a pout Face can never tell is genuine or not when it comes to teasing with B.A. “Don't be like that.”

“You're both distracting.”

Murdock shimmy's down the chair and splays his legs further apart. “It's all for you, Big Guy.” he says with a wink that makes B.A grumble and turn back to their rapist.

With a smirk Face turns back to Murdock and nudges Murdock's leg with his own. “Then what's for me?”

Murdock looks back up at Face with a raised eyebrow. His lips are pursed and Face can't help but smile at the endearing expression.

“If it's all for Bosco, then what's for me?”

Murdock blinks and Face is expecting some sort of cheeky comment and a wide smile. Something cute or crazy or both. But instead Face finds himself confused when Murdock holds out his other hand.

“Murdock...?”

Murdock shakes his hand in the air, eyebrows raised as he looks at Face expectantly.

Face grabs Murdock's outstretched hand and hauls the man up.

“Finally. Go. Get out of here,” B.A says, looking at them from the corner of his eyes. The man in the chair looks out of it, eyes falling shut before jerking awake. Face knows he has missed a lot. There's much more blood than before, and from what he can see the man is missing a few fingers and toes. Face can't help but smirk at the giant red blood stain on the front of the mans trousers.

“Put crazy to bed.”

“Behave, boys.” Is all Hannibal says, not once looking away from B.A and the scene in front of him, but his tone is teasing.

With a smirk from Face, both he and Murdock disappear down the hallway.

Murdock leads Face up the stairs, the man following as if Murdock wasn't simply holding his hand, but his heart strings instead.

They wander into the first bedroom they come across, Murdock letting go of Face's hand in favour of diving onto the king-sized bed.

Face decides, as he leans against the bedroom door-frame, that he likes the look of Murdock outstretched on silk and fur. But he also knows he'd like it more if Murdock had a lot less clothing.

“Ooo, look, Facey. They got a big ole fireplace.”

And he's right. Adjacent to the bed is a large white-stoned fireplace. It's clearly electric and its mantle

is covered in garland and candles. It's very pretty, and Face doesn't ask. He makes his way over, fingers searching for a remote or a switch. With a noise of triumph, a switch flips and the fire hums to life with a few soft clicks.

He turns around to find Murdock sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed and humming some Christmas tune under his breath. Santa Baby, Face realizes with a fond smile, remembering how Eartha Kitt's record serenaded the room earlier with her teasingly sweet voice.

The fire is now alive in the room, bight and flickering shadows around the room and it only fuels the heat Face has been feeling in his stomach all evening. The one Murdock creates in him without doing anything other than being Murdock.

With dark eyes trained on Murdock, Face undoes his tie and sheds his jacket before working on his dress shirt. Carefully, he removes the chest sheath that holds several of his blades, concealed perfectly under his jacket. Small and sharp and as beautiful as they were the first time Face laid eyes on them.

He takes the blades out of their hiding spots and places them down on the bedside table with care. When he goes to toe his shoes off and undo his belt, he watches as Murdock takes a blade off the table and inspects it by rolling it around his fingers. It's a sight that makes the heat in his stomach flare.

“Be careful, beautiful. Don't want you cutting yourself from curiosity,” He says, shrugging off his dress shirt and letting it join the jacket.

Murdock makes a noise that let's Face know he's been heard, but the man doesn't stop his inspection.

“Are you sure?”

Face goes to ask Murdock what's he's talking about, but finds he can't form any words as he watches Murdock run a finger along the edge of the blade. He's transfixed, arms removing his belt slowly from their loops before dropping it to the ground.

And then, without thinking, a hand makes its way to the bulge in his pants, his breathing faster now as he squeezes and rubs. He swallows thickly as he watches Murdock watch the blade. The man is quiet, and seems distant. His fingers are gently caressing the blade and Face matches his movements, mouth now open in a silent pleasure.

This man is actually going to kill him one day. Face finds he can't wait.

“H.M -”

“Are you sure you don't want me to cut myself with one of your blades?”

Face's mouth has gone dry and the heat in his body tingles his skin. He can't even hold back the groan as he imagines it, hips rolling into his hand. How perfectly the skin would part under such little pressure. How the blood would spill over and paint tan skin with its bright colour. How perfectly sinful Murdock would look sprawled on the silk sheets, back arched, the fire blazing in the background yet unable to compete with the fire in Face's heart as they move together between the sheets.

“I want to mark every inch of you,” Face confesses in a breath, “but at the same time I want nothing to ever hurt you. Not even me.”

Murdock hums, head jerking in a nod.

“I see the way you look at me, you know. Sometimes. And you know what?” Murdock asks, now looking at Face.

“What?”

Murdock bites his lower lip, hesitant. After a couple beats of silence he says, “I want it, too.”

Face's breath catches in his throat. He doesn't dare ask Murdock what he means, even though he has no doubt in his mind what the other man is telling him.

But, it turns out he doesn't have to. Murdock gives the blade one last, long look before holding it out to Face.

“Mark me, Face.” he says, voice gentle and small. Like this is as difficult for him to do. Like right here and now he's putting more on the line than he's showing. It makes Face want to gather him up and press kiss after kiss to his forehead and temple and hold him until whatever force out there has to pry the man out of his arms.

But ultimately, the heat in his stomach mixed with the offer is too much to resist. He closes the small distance between them, legs coming to straddle Murdock. The mans fringe falls over his forehead as they settle and Face finds it in himself to tenderly brush them away.

Face makes quick work of Murdock's suit, the other man content to let Face do all the work, blade still in hand. When Murdock is stripped and naked, Face presses kisses to the exposed skin. His entire body is burning for Murdock, his hands caressing the mans legs as he busies his mouth with the curve of Murdock's neck.

He let's out a groan when fingers grab at his hips and sneak underneath the fabric of his dress pants and underwear. He nips at skin as two hands pull down the clothing and gives a long hum of approval when Murdock grabs his ass in the process.

He kicks the clothes off and hovers over Murdock. Their mouths not quite touching, ghosting over each other, neither making the next move. He then feels the press of cool metal in his hand, and his breath hitches.

“Do it.”

Murdock's breath is hot on his lips, and Face's doesn't think he could say no even if he wanted to. Not when Murdock is naked and under him and looking at him with those eyes.

Murdock's hand wraps around Face's own. He doesn't try to push Face, doesn't control the movement. But for once in Face's life when faced with the offer of exposed skin, he feels hesitant. The knife feels heavy and awkward in his grip, a feeling as equally foreign.

He thinks the only thing that's stopping him from flinging the thing across the room is the fact that Murdock is right; he wants this. Wants this so bad that some days he's had to put physical distance between himself and Murdock because the urge was so strong. And on those rare, quiet nights where Hannibal and B.A were doing whatever and he had Murdock all to himself, the feeling curled around his heart; intrusive yet tempting. But Face always pushed it down in favour of listening to Murdock regale him with tales of fiction passed off a real-life. Somehow, Murdock was always very good at distracting Face from how badly he burned for the other man.

It's rather easy to forget when he's making sure Murdock doesn't mistake the wood polish for cooking spray. If it's a mistake at all.

A shudder so violent rips through Face as Murdock's hands guides Face's low. Gentle, and in no way demanding. Giving Face an out, options, time.

But he can't forget. Not tonight.

It feels like an eternity before the blade slices into Murdock's skin, slow and sensual yet Face feels conflicted. He wasn't joking in the slightest when he said he never wanted to hurt Murdock, no matter the situation. But seeing Murdock on this bed, his eyes wide and honest as he held the blade out and asked Face to mark him....it was a temptation too hot to pass up.

In the end, when the blade lifts up, it simply a small cut in Murdock's hip. But as Face watches the blood rise he let's out a breath of pleasure. He tucks his face into the curve of Murdock's neck and places an open mouth kiss to the skin there.

“Are you okay?” A hand snakes into his hair and blunt nails scratch at his scalp. Face has to laugh.

Here he is, on top of the one person whose beauty doesn't make him want to cut their face off, hard and panting as he holds a knife in a white-knuckle grip, yet can't make himself do anything more than pant into warm skin.

The hand holding Face's loosens, and the knife slips from their hands and onto the floor.

“Are you okay?” Murdock asks again. This time there's more demand behind it, and the hand in his hair pulls just enough to make Face look up.

He doesn't know how he must look to Murdock, who, for once, he thinks, look positively at peace. His eyes are hooded and filled with a warmth that makes Face want to crawl inside and live in it. His face

is open and soft and it makes Face grip the sheets with his hand, balling up the fabric between his fingers until it almost hurts.

The answer to Murdock's questions is that yes, he is okay. He's very much okay. Has never felt more okay in his entire life. His body is on fire, the feel of Murdock twirling his hair in his fingers makes him want to purr, and he wants nothing more than to lick the small wound on Murdock's hip.

So he does just that. He leans back in and gives Murdock a kiss, one he hopes to whatever is out there translates what he's feeling and that Murdock understands. Because right now, he can't find the words. Can't express himself in the way he knows Murdock needs.

Breaking away he moves to the wound, his erection rubbing against Murdock in a friction that makes him bite his lower lip and pause. One that almost makes him say fuck it and slot himself between Murdock's legs.

He resists the urge, eyes fixed on the cut. He brushes a thumb over it and delights in the way Murdock wiggles.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and finds his voice to be almost non-existent. He forces his eyes away and looks at Murdock.

Murdock shakes his head. “Nah, darling,” He reaches out and touches Face's cheek with the tips of his fingers. “More like a paper cut than anything.”

Face nods, his eyes once again back on the cut. He can feel the want and adrenaline pumping through his heart. He so overwhelmed with the feelings that it's almost hard to breathe.

He licks over the wound slowly, letting his tongue flick off at the end, watching Murdock as the the other mans eyes close with a flutter. He let's out a low groan as he runs his tongue over the cut again, eyes rolling to the back of his head and he loses himself the moment.

He feels like fire and Murdock tastes like absolute sin and he can't stop himself from rubbing against Murdock. The hands in his hair pull and Face bites down gently, smirking when Murdock bucks. Face grabs a hold of Murdock's hips and holds them in place, before biting down again.

“Face,” Murdock pants out, trying but unable to move his hips against Face's mouth, which is now sucking at his skin, “As nice as this is we might wanna move it along. You know as soon as they're done we're outta here.”

Face hums at Murdock's words. With a kiss he looks up.

“You know as well as I do that B.A will be at that all night.”

“But this isn't a normal hit, it's personal. Different.”

“Worried they'll see?”

“I have been trying to organize a four-some for years,” Murdock quips. “Just waiting on Bosco Baby to stop being such a joy-kill.”

Face laughs and hides his smile in the dip of Murdock's hips. The hands in his hair no longer pull, but gently play. Fingers carding through in a way that would usually lull him to sleep any other time.

Murdock is right, however. This night is different. Not in the sense that they sneak off like two teenagers every now and then, but just all-around. Maybe it was Murdock being in a suit. Maybe it's because it's so close to Christmas. Maybe it's because Hannibal was merely chewing on his cigar and not actually smoking it. Face doesn't know.

Face thinks about how when B.A and Hannibal are done downstairs they'll simply call for them, and if they do happen to see anything, it's not like it'll be the first time. How he and Murdock will untangle themselves and get dressed with an ease and efficiency that comes from years of doing this. How they'll leave, and then the house will blow, and they'll drive until they find another lost yet daring soul who needs a man killed, or they come across someone on their lists.

How they'll run and outrun, together if they're lucky. Even luckier if they die the same way.

Face places a lingering kiss over the wound before crawling back up and capturing Murdock's lips with his own.

:i:

 

**Author's Note:**

> B.A is literally Jesus pass it on 
> 
>    
> https://waynesgrayson.tumblr.com/


End file.
